


these lonely nights i burn for you

by orphan_account



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jem would recite their names to himself, over and over again, shaping and molding them with all the tender fondness that he felt for them that he couldn't breathe into existence. He guarded these names like they were his most prized possessions for they were. He feared losing them for h knew that losing them would mean losing himself once and for all.
Relationships: Jem Carstairs & Will Herondale, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray, Jem Carstairs/Tessa Gray/Will Herondale, Jem Carstairs/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	these lonely nights i burn for you

When Jem had been five, his mother had taken him to a nearby Taoist temple.

He remembered clutching her hand as she told him stories of snakes becoming people and people becoming butterflies and legendary warriors who could split the sky wide open. He loved her stories, listening to them made him feel closer to her.

The temple had been on top of a mountain, surrounded by lush greenery that complemented its graceful ornate arches and stone pavilions. He could hear bells ringing and voices lifted in chants. Jem ducked behind his mother shyly as some of the people cast him curious glances for his European features.

His mother gently nudged him forward with a laugh, she would never let him hide behind her. She guided him to a place to remove their sandals outside and helped him wash his hands after gently chiding him for getting his sleeves soaked.

The temple had been a lot smaller than the Institute he lived in but it had been bustling with life. People had their heads bent in deference as their mouths moved in silent prayer. Incense sticks were lit in bundles and sent up pillars of aromatic smoke. Stone idols smiled placidly from their alcoves with their hands folded in front. Monks weaved in between the crowds of the people, clad in their bright robes of warm, earthy tones of orange and yellow.

Jem remembered the kind and gentle monks well. Whenever he looked back on this particular memory, it was them that he would recall with clarity and he would be filled with the same serenity that he had felt then.

When Jem first encountered a Silent Brother, he had been but a young boy torn from his home, grieving the demise of his parents. He remembered the cool touch of the Silent Brother on his flushed forehead as he battled against the effects of yin fen, fading in and out of consciousness. For some reason, he was reminded of the monks that he had seen in the temple so long ago and found solace and comfort in that comparison.

That night had been the first night that he had slept peacefully since he came to London, his mind full of memories of a happier time.

___________________________________________________________________

Jem could remember the ritual only in snippets, flashes that would creep in from time to time. But when Will or Tessa or anyone asked, he would always lie and say that he couldn’t remember anything.

Honestly, it had been primal and vicious. He remembered his back arching off the stone bed as a scream tried to claw out of his throat like a wild beast. Pain had exploded throughout his body followed by an intense flood of heat that made him feel like he was being melted down to take another form.

Every rune they had drawn on his skin felt as if it was being carved down to his bones, turning his body into an inescapable prison. He remembered thinking that he wasn’t going to survive, that his weak body wouldn’t be able to handle the transformation. The thought alone had terrified him, that he would die not surrounded by people he loved but all alone instead.

A part of him had wanted to die. But that was a secret he would carry to the grave.

He couldn't afford to die. He couldn’t abandon Will and Tessa, not when he had the barest sliver of a chance of saving them, of being with them, in whatever form possible.

That was the only thought that he had had, maybe that was what had saved him.

After the ritual, he had been bandaged and left there all alone. His body had burned like it had been scraped raw and all he could hear was his slow, even breathing and a faint buzzing in his ears that drowned out all else.

Somehow, he had barely managed to evade the maws of death yet again. Jem could have laughed.

He had wondered what his parents would have thought if they could see him. He certainly hadn’t felt like their Jian anymore. 

After what had felt like a century, the Silent Brothers returned and instructed him to take up another name. He could no longer claim the name Jem. As a Silent Brother, he had to give up any attachments to the living world.

He had thought of Will's quicksilver smile and Tessa's warm, steady gaze and knew that that would be impossible. And so it was with a lie clenched between his teeth that he renewed his mortal tenure.

Jem had thought again of the monks but the thought no longer brought him peace. While the monks had also lived apart from the world but they had also been a part of it, they had never sacrificed their humanity.

But the Silent Brothers were barely humans, they were something else all together.

And Jem was one of them now.

He had chosen the name Zachariah.

_To remember._

Remember Will. Remember Tessa. Remember his parents. Remember Charlotte and Henry and all the people he was so fortunate to have met and cared about.

Remember Jem.

James Carstairs was no more from that day forth. He had perished there among the stone and fire.

There was only Brother Zachariah who remained.


End file.
